


Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

by jade-1459 (Jade)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Hurt, Post-Relationship, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade/pseuds/jade-1459
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't control the outcome because he wasn't the only one with his hands on the steering wheel.<br/>(See notes for warnings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [SGA Flashfic](http://sga-flashfic.livejournal.com/) Song & Dance challenge. 
> 
> **Warning:** This story is set post-relationship and is written from John's POV. That means this story is  not going to be flattering to Elizabeth's character in anyway.
> 
> Song: "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" by John Mayer

Settling down on the balcony floor, John adjusted his grip on the guitar. The instrument was a comfortable weight in his hands – the glossy wood soothing, the sharp bite of the strings comforting. It stung a little that right now he wasn’t playing for the pleasure it brought, but as a sort of poor man’s therapy. Music was an outlet like running was. The difference was that he didn’t want the chance to reflect, he just wanted to bleed away the frustration with his fingers.

As his fingers moved over the strings it felt like he was probing a wound. Starting at the edges and moving steadily inward. The notes themselves were almost like rubbing in salt. It was slow and steady, and almost sultry. It was a unique kind of pain that only another musician would understand. The simple act of expression was a type of bloodletting.

Eyes closed, John just played. At the moment that was all that was important. He was learning the shape of his wound. The song, when it came, would bring back some of the order he had lost in his thoughts.

He’d argued with Elizabeth again. She seemed to be in some sort of denial. He just couldn’t understand why because he couldn’t see the whole of the wound. Just the edges. Elizabeth couldn’t even see the fact that they were both bleeding to death. It was like she was being willfully blind to the disaster coming their way – waving away all the warnings.

He vaguely recalled having heard the song not that long ago when he was doing paper work, Cadman sitting cross legged on his office floor surrounded by stacks of paper. She’d set her laptop not far away and played some random play list. Humming softly, John felt for the words and they came forth with a rusty voice that hadn’t been used in a while.

_It’s not a silly little moment  
It’s not the storm before the calm  
This is the deep and dying breath  
Of this love we’ve been working on_

It was more than a little frustrating being the only one to actually see. He’d always been oblivious to the disasters his relationships were heading towards. This time he was seeing clearly, but he wasn’t the only one who could see the damn transport truck heading their way. It was frustrating because he couldn’t avoid the disaster, he couldn’t even swerve away to try to avoid some of the damage. He couldn’t control the outcome because he wasn’t the only one with his hands on the steering wheel.

_Can’t seem to hold you like I want to  
So I can feel you in my arms  
Nobody’s gonna come and save you  
We pulled too many false alarms_

They had spent the last year and a half slowly building this relationship. They did it one look, one touch, one word, one day at a time. They were careful, laying out a solid foundation. They had built something sweet, something beautiful, together. And now they were taking it apart the same way. One look, one touch, one word, one day at a time. They were pulling their foundation out from under them one brick at a time and building ugly walls between them instead.

John could see this clearly. And it made him want to shake Elizabeth – hard – because she refused to even look. She just kept insisting that everything was still fine – still beautiful.

_We’re going down  
And you can see it, too  
We’re going down  
And you know that we’re doomed  
My dear, we’re slow dancing in a burning room_

What was worst was that everyone else could see what was happening as well. It was like they were witnesses to some horrible accident, and like any witness they couldn’t look away. Too horrified and fascinated to overcome that natural human inclination to the morbid.

Rodney had given him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Teyla spoke gently to him and then beat his ass in with sticks. Ronon had taken to putting himself between Elizabeth and John, trying to shield John from the inevitable. Caldwell had given him a knowing look and Lorne offered silent support.

Elizabeth missed all of these signs that something was wrong. She just pressed harder on the accelerator and steadfastly ignored the shouts of others. Even Rodney’s blunt demand to know what the hell she thought she was playing at, because John’s heart was not a game. And that had been embarrassing.

_I was the one you always dreamed of  
You were the one I tried to draw  
How dare you say it’s nothing to me?  
Baby, you’re the only light I ever saw_

That was the heart of the matter.

It was the center of the wound, fingers buried deep in torn flesh.

Elizabeth was treating this like a game, like something that didn’t really matter. It was the reason she couldn’t see they were bleeding to death, because she wasn’t bleeding. She was covered in his blood because this wasn’t a game to John. This had been real, it had mattered – more than he thought it had.

His eyes hadn’t been as open as he had originally thought. He’d narrowed his gaze to the wound, thinking it the worst of his problems. He’d completely forgotten to discover where his was bleeding from. And now his fingers were probing the inside of his heart – frantically trying to discover if there was even enough left to salvage.

_I’ll made the most of all the sadness  
You’ll be a bitch because you can  
You’ll try to hit me just to hurt me  
So you leave me feeling dirty  
Cause you can’t understand_

There wasn’t enough left to save. There were missing pieces and the wound too deep, bleeding too freely. Even if he managed to keep from bleeding to death, the scar tissue alone would leave him crippled.

Leave it to him to fall in love with someone who couldn’t love him back. Leave it to him to be oblivious to that fact even while his heart was being gouged out of his chest. Leave it to him to fall in love and not even know it.

_We’re going down  
And you can see it, too  
We’re going down  
And you know we’re doomed  
My dear, we’re slow dancing in a burning room_

But some part of him must have known realized what was going on. Some part of him must have known he was slowly bleeding out because John had given as good as he got. For all their arguments, John had taken just as many stabs at Elizabeth as she had taken at him. And when they weren’t destroying each other, they were bringing the house down around them. Elizabeth wasn’t the only one using the foundation to build a fortress around herself. John was going the same damn thing.

_Go cry about it, why don’t you?  
Go cry about it, why don’t you?  
Go cry about it, why don’t you?  
My dear, we’re slow dancing in a burning room_

Even if he could make Elizabeth see what it was they were doing, John didn’t think it would be enough. They were so set in their ways now they wouldn’t be able to stop. And even if they managed to, there was no way they could recreate what they’d had. There was too much damage done. They had slowly dismantled things too well. And what they couldn’t use they destroyed.

The house was burning around them without a drop of water in sight.

_Don’t you think we oughta know by now?  
Don’t you think we should have learned somehow?  
My dear, we’re slow dancing in a burning room_

Whoever had said it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all had obviously never been in love. Or at least he hadn’t had his heart torn from his chest because of love; John decided when his fingers finally stopped moving on the strings.

Holding his hand out in front of him, John watched as blood welled and dripped from his fingers where the strings had cut into them.


End file.
